New Line of Work
by Terrapin44
Summary: Chef Torte's Apprentice reflects on all the time spent at his job and wonders whether he is still happy with the way his life is going. Takes place shortly after Bundt and Strawberry are defeated. SMRPG


"Vell, zat vas utter disaster! Obviously, zat vas your fault, no?"

He sighed. He didn't outwardly sigh, of course. He wouldn't dare do something so stupid, not while Torte was standing right next to him. That…would be nothing short of foolish. It was more of a mental sigh than a real one.

"Zo much for zat vedding! Now, vhen next vone arrives, I vill be vatching you very closely to make sure you it right and make no stupid mistake, like alvays! You got zat?"

Silently, all he did was nod in agreement. He really wanted this conversation to end, so he could finish doing what he was supposed to do. Turning his attention back to the sink, he silently proceeded to wash the romaine lettuce he had in his gloved hands. He had broken up the leaves and placed them into the sink, the cold water running. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong until Torte almost yelled out in disbelief.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Vhat do you think you are doing?!"

He stopped, still not meeting Torte's gaze, waiting for an answer.

"Vhy do you put lettuce in zink?! Did you clean ze zink?"

He shook his head, slightly.

"Zen vhy do you put lettuce in zink?! You vant to make lettuce even dirtier?! Stupid! Take lettuce out of zink! Now!"

Wordlessly, he nodded. But before he could do as he was asked, Torte impatiently stuck his hands in the sink and took the lettuce out, himself, confident that he would do something wrong.

Now, this was something he didn't quite get. Yes, the sink was very, very slightly dirty, (although you couldn't really tell by looking) but the lettuce was also dirty as well. It had dirt all over it, reminding him that the lettuce had only just recently come out of the ground. So even if the lettuce was going into the sink, it was still already dirty anyway, so the two kind of cancelled each other out.

But none of that mattered to Torte as he placed the lettuce on the counter next to the sink. Not that he could blame him. He had enough on his plate to think about, anyway.

"Vash lettuce on counter! And don't forget to wipe it dry, clod!"

That was another thing. Why did he have to WIPE the lettuce dry? All it needed was a good shaking and he would get the same effect. He had never heard of people taking paper towels to wipe lettuce leaves dry. It seemed…pointless…to do it that way.

Before he could think of anything else, Torte stepped away from him and turned towards the stairs leading up to the main hall.

"I go up to main hallvay to check on vedding status. Vhen I come back, ve make cake again, and I vatch you closely! Got it?"

Still saying nothing, the apprentice nodded. Torte shook his head before disappearing up the stairs. Before he was out of sight, however, he could hear him say:

"You'd screw up Star's Prayer, no?"

Torte always seemed to like using that particular insult. He sighed again. This time it was aloud. He was out of earshot, so he was pretty sure Torte wouldn't hear.

So much had happened earlier that day. They were in a rush to present the cake to the newlywed couple, as they were slightly late on getting it into the main hall. When they got there, however, the hall was mostly empty and this strange man in red overalls and a red 'M' hat announced that he was taking the bride-to-be away. With them gone, there would be no one to eat the cake. This made them very angry. From there, they did something that was very rare among them. They decided to take their frustrations out on the man who was kidnapping the bride, so-to-speak. Or rather, Torte got angry and attacked the man; the apprentice just joined in because he knew Torte would yell at him if he didn't. But honestly, he'd get yelled at anyway, no matter what he did.

The real fun started when the cake suddenly sprang to life. As soon as the apprentice noticed the cake moving, he knew all at once that it was NOT his fault. Before attempting to take on a big and important recipe, like a wedding cake, Torte had drilled it into his head to very closely heed the baking instructions, as one slip up and the cake would be ruined, or so he said. Knowing he would never hear the end of it if he didn't do this, the apprentice followed the instructions word for word, just like he had with this cake.

Then he remembered that Torte, in an effort to make the cake look better than it already appeared, proceeded to add a couple of extra ingredients here and there. When the apprentice noticed this and tried speaking up, he only got scolded harshly, so he would keep silent. Torte assured him that he knew what he was doing. He was, after all, a master chef; a genius in the art of cake-making. The apprentice did not doubt this for one second, even if one of the ingredients Torte had added looked a bit…peculiar. It had turned out that the ingredient in question added to the mixture, what Torte thought was powdered sugar, was actually Magikoopa magic dust. He had seen it numerous times before in his last job. He had found it hard to believe that Torte would make this kind of error, but then he noticed that the ingredient container had no label on it. Of course, as he once again spoke his concerns to Torte, he was scolded. Torte assured his worried apprentice that he knew what he was doing.

What could he do? It was either he stayed quiet or he would lose his job. He had nothing else lined up yet, so speaking up would be out of the question.

In knowing all this, it was to be expected that Torte reacted with shock and horror when his latest achievement in culinary mastery started moving on its own. His response to this was to run away like a Wiggler with its flower unattached. The apprentice followed him, basking in the reality that, for once, he was right and Torte was wrong. This was, indeed, a moment that was rare among the chef-in-training.

Of course, Torte hated to admit to anything that was conceivably his fault. After the clamour had died down, the first 'wedding' had finished and the second one was soon to begin, Torte confronted the apprentice in hysterics, saying that it was 'his fault' and that he 'didn't follow the recipe like I asked.' The apprentice could do nothing but listen to these false accusations, apologize and swear that it would never happen again.

Of course, there were plenty of times where the apprentice had made mistakes that were his fault. Kitchen work admittedly was not his area of expertise. Several times he would leave a dinner on in the stove for too long, or not enough. Several times he would accidentally drop a plate or cup on the floor and break it. Several times, something on the to-do list would not get done because there just wasn't enough time left in his shift to do it. He certainly didn't mean for anything bad to happen; sometimes he simply was too inattentive, clumsy or slow on the draw. Currently, he was still trying to correct these bad habits, in the hopes that his boss would notice.

Sadly, no matter what he did, one thing seemed to be an absolute constant: Torte's yelling at him. He was always getting yelled at for one reason or another. The other chefs would get yelled at as well. Usually, it was over the most trivial things, much like the current 'incident' with the romaine lettuce. He couldn't understand why Torte would always let the smallest little details bother him.

Then again, of course he knew why this was. Torte was the boss and owner of the Marrymore wedding chapel. And as such, he had a reputation to uphold. As well as being a chef, he had several additional duties: coordinator, planner, head janitor, money counter, waiter, etc., etc. All of which required his full attention. So he understood why Torte was in a cranky mood all the time. Sometimes, being cranky was the only way for Torte to be.

Still, every time he was in the kitchen, his words seemed to carry only disbelief and hatred towards the chefs working there. The apprentice certainly had his share of insults over the months he spent working. Although he tried to tune it out, he had found it increasingly difficult in doing so. Every day Torte was there, he would be yelling. It was hard to take after awhile.

Back to the present moment, the apprentice went about washing the romaine lettuce as he was instructed to do. While he was doing this, he decided to let his mind wander slightly. Torte was upstairs in the grand hallway, so there was no one to bother him. No one to intrude his thoughts. On this particular day, he was the only other chef on duty.

He thought about where his life was, at the present moment. He looked at the kind of job he had. He looked at the kind of money he was making. There was no question that he was getting in a lot of hours at this establishment, thereby making his pay check one of the biggest he'd seen in a while. He had been there for a few months already, so at this point, he was starting to become a very rich Terrapin. He also thought of the amount of friends he had made here. They weren't true friends or anything. They were more so the kind of people you'd see in a crowded mall, say hi and start up a short conversation with. Sometimes, that was all the apprentice needed. He had made friends with the other chefs, and while he was occasionally picked on, they ultimately meant no harm.

However, on the other side of the coin, there were the long hours, the lack of free evenings, the lack of weekends free, the hardship of getting even a single specific day off, and of course, Chef Torte's incessant yelling. All of that coupled together, along with the kind of work that was involved in this, a kitchen job, made the apprentice feel pretty tired and depressed at the end of the day.

And this was even the EASIER job. Before he got the job at the chapel, he was a foot soldier at Bowser's Keep. That job was even worse than his current job, as he was the lowest ranking of soldier there was (he was, after all, just a lowly Terrapin), he got no respect from the higher ups and the fact that he was essentially working in an army position. People in the army don't get paid at all. Worst of all was the fact he was working for Bowser, the Koopa King. Had he thought Torte was harsh with people, he may have been called a wuss by his army acquaintances. Bowser would kill his own soldiers just because he felt like it. Luckily he had never actually witnessed that, himself, but he still found it crazy. What kind of boss would kill his own employees?! Naturally, he was out of there fast, left to look elsewhere for employment. He had found it in the Marrymore Chapel, as an apprentice to the well known Chef Torte.

Still, though this was a more normal job than the occupation previous, he still could not help gawking at how much Torte was brutal with his workers. And after several months of this, it did not take the apprentice long to realize that he felt very empty inside, as if his soul was being crushed by a Thwomp, or something. Of course, he knew that most 'joe jobs' would be quite similar to this, but that did not deter him from his current mood. As he stood there by the sink, washing the romaine lettuce, he came in touch with an emotion that he would often feel at the end of a work day: he was unhappy.

It was there that he got to thinking: there were many jobs available out there for anybody who had the interest. There were jobs out there that promised stable working hours on a normal weekly schedule. Some required weekend work, others didn't. Some offered fresh new challenges every day while others had constant challenges that ended in a suitable time frame. The pay might not be the best for some of them, but it would be enough to satisfy the relationship between employer and employee, which didn't make much difference to begin with. Most jobs paid minimum wage, anyway.

Still, it made the apprentice hopeful that there was a job out there that would meet all these conditions, and still allow him at least some time off, like his evenings, to do the stuff that he enjoyed doing. The challenge might be more, or less. The pay might be more, or less. He might start earlier in the day, he might start later in the day. But he knew that this new job might be what it took to make him happier than he was currently.

He thought of one of these jobs: a mail carrier. It was true that mail carriers get their start quite early in the morning and are walking long distances to deliver the mail. The weather may not be that great, and the possibility that he would get attacked by something, like a Chain Chomp, was anywhere between low to moderate. On the other hand, there was the early afternoon finish (if you were quick enough), the great pay, benefits, and free evenings. 'Such a job would be perfect to have,' thought the apprentice.

He briefly thought ahead: tomorrow was his day off, so he could try to hand in an application form and a resume to the Mushroom Kingdom Post Office. While he was doing that, he would keep his eye on the want ads, in search of any other job that looked appealing. Briefly thinking back to his current occupation, he knew Chef Torte might not be pleased by this sudden change of events. In fact, he'd probably be yelling like he always was, taking it out on some other hapless employee who didn't deserve it. But, in so doing, he would eventually realize that he did still have other chefs to do the duties expected of them, and he could always hire someone else if and when he needed it. It would all work out in the end. And deep down, the apprentice knew that he was not going to spend the rest of his life with a kitchen job. He would go absolutely crazy if he did.

All at once, the Terrapin was filled with a sense of hope and eagerness as he waited for today's shift to end. He was filled with courage, fortitude and calmness. And, at the very least, it made him feel happier than he had felt not a few seconds ago. He found himself smiling as Chef Torte made his way back down the stairs, as surly as ever. He stopped as he noticed his apprentice's facial expression.

"Well, you seem to be in good mood, yes?" he said, tersely. He clapped his hands. "All right, now you come vith me. Ve make cake again, and zees time I vant no mistakes from you. Ve clear?"

The apprentice looked at him, still smiling. "Yes sir," he said, jovially.

Torte looked at him for a second. He seemed to notice a slight change in his apprentice from earlier that day, and he couldn't think of what it might be, or why. Inwardly shrugging, he blotted it out of his mind. He'd worry about it later.

"Ok," he said. "Now follow me!"


End file.
